He raised one eyebrow. “One and the same, indeed. Do you know him?”
She shook her head.
“Not I, but my close childhood friend, Miss Elizabeth Carmichael is about to be employed by them as their governess.”
“Is that so? A new governess for the Viscount already? Well done, Portsmouth.” The smirk on his face made her stomach twist into knots.
What does he mean? Why does he say it in such a foreboding manner?
“Is he not a kind man? The Viscount? Betsy is my dearest friend and I should not want her to be in harm’s way.”
The smirk fell from his face and he shook his head.
“Never you worry, my dear. Your friend will be treated very well, indeed. Now, I find myself suddenly famished. Would you care for a bite?”
Confused as to the sudden change in their evening, as they had after all just moments ago stepped outside, Rowena shook her head.
“Very well. Perhaps you would like to accompany me to the supper room then.”
It was not a question; she could tell from the tone in his voice. So, she simply nodded and followed him inside, a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Chapter 11
Christopher found himself sitting in the armchair in his uncle’s drawing room, staring into the fading fire. It was chilly and he covered himself with a blanket he’d found thrown over the back of the seat.
He had returned from the ball late, having awaited an opportunity to speak to Lady Rowena once more before leaving, but had found himself unable to do so.
Thornmouth had not left her side for most of the evening. For the brief moments he did, her mother had occupied her time. He had noticed her glancing at him from time to time, looking away in embarrassment each time she realized he’d noticed.
It is not much, but perhaps it is a sign that she does indeed feel what I feel. And perhaps there is a chance, despite her words about duty and expectation.
Christopher had found himself dancing with various ladies, most of them very eager to spend time with him, proving his notion that his title mattered more than his wealth.
Toward the end of the night, and after being prompted by Lord Hazelshire once more, he’d danced with Lady Catherine. He’d hoped that his brief dance with Lady Rowena’s sister would lead him to some useful information about the family. In particular about Lady Rowena and the unfortunate betrothal, but that had not worked to plan either. No, the young lady had been thoroughly occupied with talk of her own virtues and skills.
At least Lord Hazelshire had seemed pleased at the sight of their dancing.
He tilted his head back and let the last of the cup of ale run down his throat when the door opened, and his uncle entered.
“Christopher? Why are you awake at this early hour?”
Early? Is it indeed early already? How long have I sat here alone?
“I must have not realized the passage of time, Uncle Nestor.”
“Is the excitement from the ball keeping you awake?”
Christopher shrugged but said nothing, which appeared to be answer enough for his uncle.
“I see. What has happened? Would you care to share?”
He sighed and leaned his head back against the chair.
“Nothing happened and it looks as though maybe nothing will.”
His uncle smiled kindly and Christopher saw his mother in his uncle for a brief moment.
“I take it the reason for the Friday-face is a young lady? What happened, did she refuse to dance with you? Never you worry, some of these young ladies like to tease, just keep asking.”
